The Danger of Illusions
by MagickBeing
Summary: After the downfall of the Dark Lord, Harry tries to spend a night alone with his lover, Draco Malfoy. Things aren't as simple as they seem, however, when Harry learns the danger and pain of illusions. Slash. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Yes my dear readers, I am alive after all. I've just been procrastinating, as I'm sure my dear Savannah shall tell you all.. Ehm, I'm not sure how much I like this story, but I decided-- seeing as I haven't posted anything in awhile-- I ought to put it up. So don't blame me if it reads like shi... shuffle boards. Yeah, real discrete, I know. Anyways, hopefully I'll be more in the updating mood and be able to get out another chapter of PPF in the next week. Not promising anything, because as you've already seen, I'm not good with promises.  
  
**Warning: **Haven't you become familiar with my work, yet? Slash people-- Slash and lot's of it!  
  
**Disclaimer: **Ya'll know the drill.

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**The Danger of Illusions**  
  
_The clouds parted, revealing the moon, the Crimson Eve apparent in the ebony sky. No stars accompanied it, as they were smuggled, dimmed by the darkness the Eve radiated. In a world of itself, the Dark Lord stood proud, watching with something similar to happiness as the moon traveled higher into the sky, cloaking the world with its blood. _

_The Dark Lord Voldemort lifted his arms amidst the circle of his black-clad followers, and began a heavy chant, the rays of the moon magnifying with each word he spoke, with each syllable he uttered. His follower's looked on with slight awe as the moon's rays entwined themselves around their lord, lifting him from the ground as he continued his chant. _

_Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the garden sanctuary burst open, several cloaked figures darting in yelling, "The prisoners have escaped, My Lord! The prisoners have escaped!" _

_Lord Voldemort lowered his head, his ghastly pale hands darting towards his cloak hood and pulling it down in one quick movement. "And their freedom is your death." _

_And with that, a green glow accompanied the crimson as the Dark Lord presented his new gift..._

"To the downfall of the Dark Lord," said a soft voice suddenly, pulling one Harry Potter back into the present. 

Harry shook his head slightly, his brilliant green orbs focusing on the blonde-haired man in front of him as he lifted his chalice to the air, softly repeating, "To the downfall of the Dark Lord." 

Harry's smile was sad as he lifted his chalice in a similar matter, a soft clinking sound echoing around the room and bouncing off of the walls as glass meant glass in a toast. 

"To the downfall of the Dark Lord." 

The man in front of him lowered his glass and put it to his lips, taking a small sip of the red liquid. Harry barely registered himself doing the same as he was studying his lover so intently, promising himself to remember how the wine stained the Slytherin's lips with small droplets of red and how he parted his lips and slowly wetted them with a pink, velvet tongue, all traces of the wine disappearing. 

"Harry?" 

The Gryffindor smiled, Draco's voice breaking him from his trance. "What?" 

"You were staring," said Draco softly, the teasing apparent in his voice. 

"Oh, err, sorry," said Harry, a slight blush creeping to his cheeks. It amazed him that the Slytherin, after the two years they had spent together, could still make him feel like pulling his turtle-neck over his head and hiding forever from sheer embarrassment, especially over something as trivial as staring. 

The Slytherin smiled slightly, leaning forward in his chair a bit and placing his glass on the wooden table, "You know you're a hero, don't you?" 

Harry bowed his head, his eyes focusing on the glass held tightly between his fingers, and softly said, "No I'm not." 

"Yes you are. You did it, Harry. You saved the Wizarding World. Everyone's free now.." 

"Not everyone," said Harry, his fingers tightening around the stem of the chalice and his knuckles going white. 

Draco sighed softly from across the table, "That isn't your fault, Harry. It isn't your fault they died.." 

Harry smiled sadly, "That's not it." 

"Ron and Hermione?" 

He sighed, temporarily closing his eyes, "Sure." 

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor surrounded Harry before he could feel the warmth of another beside him. He kept his eyes closed as someone took his hands in theirs, carefully untwining his fingers from the near-shattered-glass and setting it on the table. 

Draco's hands enveloped Harry's and Harry could feel his warm breath against his ear as he whispered, "Look at me." 

"Look at me," he repeated. 

Harry begrudgingly opened his eyes and raised his head, focusing on a spot of thin-air just above Draco's right shoulder. One of Draco's hands left Harry's and moved to his face. The Slytherin trailed a finger from Harry's temple to his jaw, gently cupping his chin in his hand and redirecting his sight. 

His voice was barely audible, "It was their fight to, Harry. They loved the cause, and they were well aware that they would probably end up sacrificing themselves for it.." 

Harry opened his mouth several times to have nothing come out. Draco sighed, his shoulders visibly slumping, which was a rare enough occurrence in itself, and he softly said, "That's not it. Is it?" 

The Gryffindor lowered his eyes again, shaking his head. 

"What's wrong, then, Harry?" He paused, his voice shaking slightly, "I can't help you unless you let me." 

Harry raised his head slowly, his eyes meeting with Draco's. It was then that he noted Draco's eyes changed color in the different lighting, switching from a surreal silver to a brilliant blue gray in the flickering light of the surrounding candles. That wasn't the only thing he noted. There was so much love and warmth presented in his eyes.. And Harry suddenly felt trapped. 

He pulled his hands from the Slytherin's and pushed his chair away from the blonde, all to aware of the man watching his quick and indecisive movements. Harry all but ran from that room, quickly darting out the door, walking swiftly away from the candlelight dinner, from the congratulations, and most of all, from Draco. 

_This isn't real,_ Harry told himself softly as he came to a sudden stop, two rooms down from where the Slytherin resided. He pushed the bedroom door open and hurried inside, shutting the door with a soft click and heading over to the sliding glass doors on the other side of the room. Almost automatically he opened the doors and stepped outside, a soft gush of wind playing with his hair as he welcomed the night. 

He stepped towards the thin, steel railing, the only thing keeping him from a drop over three stories high. He wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes as another soft gush of wind acted as an invisible hand and toyed with his dark tresses. He basked for a short while in the glow of the moon, all thoughts leaving him as he was in a different place entirely. 

_"Harry Potter." _

Harry gritted his teeth, chills traveling down his back as he calmly shifted his weight so that he was kneeling, and with another small push to the ground, standing. He could feel the coldness that was the Dark Lord, he could feel it nearing him and trying to smother. He swallowed as his enemy's voice again, rang through out his mind, "Aren't you going to turn around, Boy?" 

His body tensed, and it took every ounce of his strength not to turn in his place and shove his wand down the other's throat. 

Through the battle that roared on behind him, he could hear Voldemort step closer, as if the sounds of his footsteps on the dried leaves was the only sound that haunted the forest. Part of him wondered why the Dark Lord did not strike now, while he had the chance, but the the rest of him was quick to silence this voice, knowing that the Dark Lord longed for a fight with the person who had given him so much grief-- especially at the mere age of one. He had been trained, after all, to know the Dark Lord's thoughts better than the Lord himself knew them, sometimes.. 

He was pulled from his thoughts as the Dark Lord spoke, only a mere breath away from Harry. 

His voice was soft, taunting and snake-like. "Are you really ready to have it end this way, Boy? You who has given me such trouble-- Are you really ready to die a coward's death? Are you really ready to have your friends'-- your parents' deaths be in vain?" 

Harry's fists clenched, fighting the urge to grab his wand from his cloak pocket. 

"Answer me, Boy," Hissed Voldemort, "Answer when you are spoken to. Are you ready to die a coward's death?" 

Harry closed his eyes again, imagining the twisted smile that played on the Dark Lord's thin lips, and for a moment, he could hear the laughter in his enemy's voice. 

"As you have it.." He paused, "Such a tragic death, befitting one who has given me such trouble as you.." 

It was then, with the hairs on the back of Harry's neck pricking as Voldemort's wand neared, that he turned on his heels, his cloak swishing around him as in one quick movement, he grasped his wand and pointed it at the other. 

However, it was not quick enough. 

The next thing Harry knew, his back was slamming against the hard trunk of a tree, the gnarled bark digging at the fabric of his cloak as he fell to the ground, droplets of blood trailing down the flesh that was revealed. 

Harry's lungs ached for the air that was taken away from him as his arm let out a sickening crunch, twisted at an odd angle behind him as he fought to prop himself up. When the action was completed, he took a long, shaky breath, all to aware of the eyes focused on him. He turned his eyes to the form before him, silently cursing that his wand had vanished. 

"Clever, boy.." Said Voldemort, his dark eyes glinting in the dusk light, "But not clever enough." 

Voldemort stepped slowly nearer to Harry, his wand pointed at his temple until he was so close, that the cool wood was pressed evenly against his skin, sending shivers through out Harry that were deeper than he could imagine as Voldemort's energy coursed through him. 

Harry's eyes stubbornly meant Voldemort's own, hiding his surprise as the Lord's face shifted into something that mocked gentleness. Softly, he whispered, "Harry, Harry, Harry.." 

Again, Harry gritted his teeth, his body itching to try things the Muggle way and planting a solid kick to the Dark Lord's groin. He shivered again as Voldemort traced the side of his face with his wand, his clammy breath stinging Harry's eyes. "Oh, how I've waited for this moment," muttered the Lord under his breath, his eyes focused on Harry's own. "But.. somethings wrong.." 

Another twisted smile consumed his features and he whispered even lower than before, "I can feel your concern for him you know.." 

Harry's breath caught in his chest. 

"Yes," he hissed, "You know of who I'm speaking.. Young Malfoy, no?" 

Harry sat still, so still in fact it was as if he weren't living at all. And suddenly Voldemort turned, pointing his wand at a pale figure in the battle field. Though the Dark Lord wasn't speaking, his voice seemed to surround Harry until it was trying to consume him. 

And by killing those who you love, I will kill you, _quoted Harry's mind. _

Harry's eyes only lingered on the Slytherin's form for a moment before they went into quick search for his wand. He saw it a few steps away-- a long, slender stick prodding from a pile of freshly-fallen leaves. And his eyes moved, his heart pounding as Voldemort opened his mouth.. 

..And Harry barely registered his own voice calling for his wand as he watched the pale figure fall to the ground, his final cry sounding over the relentless noise of the battle-- 

"Harry?" 

Harry started, turning on his heel. He tightened his arms around himself as a certain blonde Slytherin stepped from the shadows into the frame of the balcony's door. Wearing black, the Slytherin blended in with the shadows, as if he wasn't there at all, but an obscuration of light. 

And suddenly he felt cold. 

"Harry," repeated the Blonde. For a moment Harry was afraid he was going to ask what was wrong, because as Harry watched how the moonlight bounced from Draco's skin and highlighted his eyes, he realized he didn't want to lie. He _couldn't_ lie-- not again, and not to him. 

Instead, however, his lover closed his mouth and stepped forward until his arms were securely wrapped around Harry's waist. Harry tensed slightly, unsure of the reason behind the action. _It's just Draco.._

Slowly, he untangled his arms from around himself and draped them around Draco, the blonde tucking his body closer to Harry's own. He pressed his cheek against Harry's, a few strands of blonde hair tickling Harry's cheek as he pressed his warms lips against his ear, whispering softly, "You looked cold." 

Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, the blonde, in return, tightening his hold on the raven-haired man. The two men pressed their foreheads together, their nose touching, and almost automatically, Draco's lips grazed Harry's. 

Harry tensed again, his eyes darting open. _It's just Draco,_ said Harry silently to himself, as the Blonde deepened the kiss. 

_No it isn't._

Harry pulled away slightly, turning his head a bit and gazing out at the darkened hills. 

Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "I can't." 

"Why?" 

He swallowed, sighing and stepping from Draco's embrace. He refused to meet his eyes as he turned to the Blonde, shrugging slightly and wrapping his arms around himself again, "I just can't." 

And with that he stepped past the man, their shoulder's brushing as he retreated into the house. 

Harry looked around his bedroom-- their bedroom, unsure of where to go or what to do. He knew that the Slytherin would soon come in, and there really was no hiding. After all, Draco knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. 

Silently, he walked to the bed, sitting down with a sigh and propping his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his palms. He was so confused. This was all so real, but at the same time.. 

He sighed again, his jaw clenching as he felt the presence of another entering the room. 

The Slytherin didn't make a sound as he moved silently across the room, sitting with a predatory grace beside his lover. He didn't move, he didn't speak, all he did was watch. He watched how the raven-haired man ran his hands nervously through his hair, hiding something in vain, and how Harry couldn't really sit still, fidgeting in his own skin. 

Harry cleared his throat nervously, and again, his actions shouted at Draco. Hesitantly, Harry turned, his eyes briefing Draco's own. 

"I love you," said Draco softly, trying what usually worked when Harry was in a similar mood. 

A sad smile played on Harry's lips, his face still propped in his palms, and softly he replied with, "No you don't." 

"Yes I do," insisted the Slytherin. 

Harry sighed, leaning back onto the bed so that he was staring at the ceiling instead of Draco's worried face, "No you don't.. You can't." 

Draco shifted in the spot, turning so that he was facing Harry. Slowly and silently, he moved towards Harry, placing his hand on the black bedspread beside Harry's side. Harry's eyes watched him unwaveringly as he leaned down and grazed his lips against Harry's own. The kiss was soft and gentle, and when Draco deepened it, this time Harry did not object, instead meeting Draco's tongue with his own. 

Soon, when the two men became entwined with each other, body, mind and soul, Harry found himself leaning over Draco, much like the way the Slytherin did to him just minutes before. He trailed kisses down Draco's jaw and neck, stopping above his collar bone and licking the pale flesh, blowing on it playfully afterwards. Draco shivered underneath him, but instead of letting him continue, placed both of his hands on either side of Harry's face and gave him a soft smile. 

Harry smiled slightly in return and placed his head on Draco's solid chest, burying his face in the other's warmth. After a few moments he closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing. 

A warm hand slid up and down his back and he found it hard to concentrate on anything but the constant breathing of Draco beside him. Finally he gave in and let the tears come. 

"What's wrong, Harry?" 

The Gryffindor pulled away, the softness of the other's voice startling him. 

He looked into the silver eyes of his lover and whispered, "I.. I hate you, Draco. I hate you." 

Harry watched as the Slytherin knitted his brows and studied him closely,"Why?" 

Harry smiled slightly, pulling away and wiping away his tears, "Because you're not real.." 

Draco stubbornly wrapped his arms again around the Gryffindor and pressed his lips against Harry's moist face. 

"What are you--" 

"Somnium exterminare," interrupted Harry, watching as the body etched in moon light beside him faded, his warmth vanishing. He rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling, tears continuing to cascade down his face. 

To the silence, he whispered, "And I hate you. I hate you because.." He paused, licking his lips and holding back another sob. "I hate you because you never came back. You weren't suppose to die, damnit.. You weren't.. You weren't suppose to die.."  
  
_Fini_


End file.
